


Time Is An Illusion

by ultimcte



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Bad Ending, Early days of Spidey, Everything just kind of goes to shit, Gen, The night Gwen Stacy died, Young(ish) Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 14:16:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21076259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultimcte/pseuds/ultimcte
Summary: The First Six Months Of Spider-Man's Career, Filtered Through The Thoughts Of A Panicked Fifteen Year Old.





	Time Is An Illusion

**Author's Note:**

> this is. a dooZY that i’ve had in my brain for a while. it has. a lot of triggers. suicide, mentions of depression, abuse, violence, mentions of death, and four pretty big deaths peppered throughout.

** _Time is an illusion._ **

One moment, you get bit by a radioactive spider, the next, bodies are piling up around you at record rates. You take a second to even blink and your Uncle’s bleeding out in front of you. The worst part? I'ts all your fault. You let the man who raised you die. He dies staring right into your eyes and your insides burn because it’s all your fault. You swear to both yourself and his memory that you won’t let it happen again, and then you blink and George Stacy dies. Captain of the police. Gwen Stacy’s father. _A hero_. **Crushed** to death under rubble because you thought the best course of action was to just throw the stupid bomb to the side rather than tossing it in the air. Jameson prints a headline calling you a murderer, and for the first time in your life you agree with him. Because he’s telling the truth. Once is forgivable but twice is a sin. A pattern. An unforgivable, unrighteous series of mistakes that you carry on your back for the _**rest of your life**_. It’s overwhelming. You’re changing your life with every bad decision and it feels like you haven’t even stopped to breath. Take a breath. Another. **Pause**. You’ve barely blinked twice and four months pass. You try to look on the bright side. You’ve unmasked The Green Goblin. Made him flee. Flee. ‘Not so invincible anymore’ you think. A small victory in between two of your greatest failures. Something to hold on to while you try not to let the tragedy get to you.

But is it truly a victory? _Norman Osborn._ Father to Harry Osborn. Close to being a second father to **you**. He’s a _**monster**_. A **mass murderer** who kills with no remorse. No thought. As if it was second nature. All the benevolence. All the charity, the kindness, the good deeds were lies. Shams. Just another way to garner good will in the eye of the press. Hell. Another way to gather good will in the eyes of all those that surround him. He was a manipulator. A puppet master. Playing everyone around you. Playing you. You stop to wonder about his wife. About how she died. Bullet to the head. Self inflicted. She never seemed truly happy, even when she smiled. Her laugh was hollow. Eyes never lifting. Always dead. The news talked over and over about her battle with depression. Norman championed the cause after. Talked about how no one should suffer in silence. About how he tried to be there for her, in every moment, but sometimes that just wasn’t enough. He seemed like such a good person at the time. But your mind wanders. Back to when your eyes would flick over to her arms. When you’d spot the_ hints _of bruises, _just_ under the sleeve. Or _**right**_ below her collars. After her passing, you wrote it off as just self-harm. But now that you know what her husband was really like? You wonder. You sit there and wonder and worry. Your stomach flips. It just about empties all it’s contents when you finally remember all the excuses Harry had made._ ‘I fell down the stairs.’ 'Flash caught me behind the lockers.’ 'Practice just got a little bit intense!’ _You realize Norman has always been a monster. Your mind flickers through every single face. Every single grave.

Don’t let it set in. Don’t normalize them. Never let him do those things again. Vow to yourself that you’d try harder. Vow to yourself that you’d never make a mistake again. You’re scared to close your eyes once more. Scared that the next time you blink something else will happen. Try to keep them open. Fight to keep them open. Live in the moment. In every moment. Not take things for granted. Fight crime with impunity. Save lives. Enough lives to offset your mistakes. Tear the weights on your shoulders off piece by piece, criminal by criminal. But you fall into a routine. Like you always do. Save the day, beat bad guys, see Gwen. _Over and over._ _**Every day.**_ It starts to get normal. **Your eyelids are so heavy.** You fight to keep them open as hard as you can. You know that the moment you let them close, the moment you take these things for granted and stop giving every moment your **_all _**that something bad will come along and ruin your life one more time._ But you can’t help it._ Criminals blend together into one composite sketch of a ski mask after another. Villains all drone on about the _same_, **hammy**, _**ridiculous**_ things. The only thing keeping you interested is **Gwen**. She injects new life into you every time you see her. You wanna tell her so bad that you’re Spider-Man. But you **killed** her dad. She mentions it _**all the time.**_ Her Father died because of Spider-Man. Without you she’d be happier. Without you she’d still smile as much as she used too. You start to lose the fight. Can’t keep your eyes open any longer. You blink and -

_ **Time is an illusion.** _

Six months felt like mere moments to Peter Parker. Mere moments felt like six months, now. He was **_stupid_**. He should’ve known unmasking Goblin would lead to something like this. Animals fight harder with their back against the wall. “_Don’t do this._” He pleads for Gwen’s life. His leg was already broken. Lungs burning as he _**struggled**_ to take in a single breath. Norman was still far too strong. A fifteen year old had no chance against someone _at the peak of their strength_, **at the peak of their cunning**, **_at the peak of their lives_**. He’s hobbling towards Norman, eyes burning. Barely supporting his weight on the one good leg he had left. He’s giving it all he has to not just topple over and **die**. With ease, however, Norman takes a _simple_ step backwards. He has Gwen dangling off the bridge, legs kicking, arms clinging to the arm gripping her neck. The only thing supporting her. The only connection to the ground. All it’d take was the simple _uncurling_ of his fingers, and she’d plummet. The monster’s **_playing_** with her.

A chuckle falls from his lips. Norman had abandoned the mask near the start of the fight. Casted it aside and made things much more personal. “_**K**_**_eep begging, Peter. It might just get you somewhere._**” The smile on his face is **sadistic**. The fear on Gwen’s is _palpable_.

##  “_PLEASE_.” 

It’s her speaking now. Pleading with Peter. Pleading for him to do _something_, **_anything_** to help. For Peter to pull something out of his ass and save Gwen Stacy. But Peter’s face is dark. Scared. Hell, even terrified. He knows he can’t win. Not now. Not like this. He knows that he’s completely at The Goblins mercy. That they both are._ “Please. Norman. Please. You don’t have to do this. Just… j-just let her go!”_ The desperation, the fear, the regret, it coats his words. The direness of this situation was weighing on him. At this point, he’d take his death. Hell, he’d take it with dignity. In stride. Just as long as he knew Gwen was safe.

The smile on Normans face fades. Mulling over the boys words. Chewing his lip. The Osborns had a habit of that. A penchant, passed down from Father to Son. **_“Peter.”_** A slight sort of shimmering glazes over the older mans eyes. His words seemed teemed with… regret. With some sort of sympathy. _**“I told you. Promised. After your Uncle died, I promised that I’d be there for you. Would do anything for you. All you’d have to do was ask.”**_ It seems true. It seems genuine. Peter’s so close to believing. So close to buying in. But the grin on Norman’s face returns. Smile stretched wide. Voice raising an octave. Nearly a shriek. **_“It’s just a shame you didn’t pick your words right!”_**

The Green Goblin laughs.

Gwen Stacy falls.

]Spider-Man follows.

He didn’t even have to give it a second thought. The moment she’s dropped he’s plummeting after her. Free fall. It’s so hard to aim where he was going with his leg shattered in more than one location. He settles on keeping his head down, back straight, Arms stretching out. Vaguely following after her. Trying desperately to get into the position he needs to save them both. Gwen, on the other hand, is plummeting like a rock. Flailing, spinning, screaming. It’s absolutely terrifying to watch. He can only imagine what she’s feeling. 'Cause all that he can feel is his heart, beating _rapidly_ against his chest. His left arm shoots up, followed shortly by a web. It travels all the way **_up up up_**, right until it hits the underside of the bridge, adhering to the smooth steel support. Peter’s momentum ends in an _instant_. **Perfect**._ He could support them._ **He could support her.** **_He could save her._** His eyes train down with intent, renewed purpose. He knew what he had to do. His hand lowers, aiming towards her. He’s almost got the perfect shot lined up before a cold rush of anxiety courses through him. His fingers are numb, his heartbeat somehow even faster. It gets difficult to even swallow. His **_spider-senses_** are on **fire**. Trying to warn him. Trying to save him. Norman probably had a dagger aimed right at Peter’s head. But at this point? **He doesn’t care.** Death be damned, he’s saving Gwen Stacy. His fingers push down on the trigger. A second web zips out, following downwards. The anxiety fades. All that’s left is… a solemn feeling, in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t understand. Maybe Norman missed? Or maybe. Maybe it had never been about Norman at all. Never about Peter. The web finally reaches it’s target, sticking itself to the top of the blondes head. She falls for one more moment, before-

##  ** _SNAP._ **

Gwen’s head jerks to the side in one _rapid_, **_nauseating motion_**. She’s rigid in less than a second, body paralyzed in the air. Her feet dangled. Arms to her side, almost locked in position. Head pointed straight ahead, staring out at a city skyline she’d never see again. Realistically, Peter knew what had happened. The moment he heard the snap he knew. But the rational side of him was already shutting down. Couldn’t face the facts. Couldn’t deal with what he’d just done. Slowly, the pair descend. Both incapable of saying anything, for two distinct reasons. There’s a slight hope in Peter’s chest when Gwen’s feet finally touch the floor. She manages to stay upright, for a moment. The next? She slowly slumps forward, head first. As the web goes further and further down, so does her face, until it lightly hits the ground.

Peter drops down after that, cutting his losses and landing squarely on his good food. The broken leg still **_flares_** with pain, but he couldn’t even seem to notice. His eyes were stuck on the back of Gwen’s head. He takes a moment to kneel down. Still staring. He’s wordless. Lost in a trance. Deep in dark, negative thoughts. His hand slowly moves to her farthest shoulder, slowly pushing her over, into his lap. He’s cradling her now. One hand supporting her head, the other pulling her closer. Torso on his lap. He can feel the tears welling up. **Burning**. **_Stinging_**. He tears his mask off with a flare of **anger**. Tosses it to the side. Beet red face finally exposed to the cool, April night. Tears slowly stream down. Can’t help the sniffles. Can’t help the rocking. Over and over. Rocking his torso on his knee as he held her as close as he could. _“I-”_ He’s trying so hard to speak. Trying to fight off the sobs as he clutches his lover in his arms. The rocking continues. _**Faster**_. More desperate. _“I thought- I thought I saved you.”_ He was sure of it. In the moment he thought he knew for sure that he had what it took. That he could somehow make it through without losing someone else._ “I thought I saved you, I-”_ Repetition. It’s all he can do not to break down. Not to shut down, lay down, **die**. _“I-”_

** _“Gwen-”_ **

** _Time is an illusion._ **

You could scream for only a few moments, but it can feel like a lifetime.


End file.
